“I had it made to match the flower that introduced us,” he said.
It was an identical representation, though one was made of silk and thread and the other of gold and diamonds.
“A fair trade, I think,” he said as he pinned my silk flower to the lapel of his suit.
I was speechless. The flower I made had cost me pennies. The broach—I couldn’t even put a price on it. But I was certain it could get my aunt and uncle out of Five Points for life. “I can’t—”
“Don’t make me beg you to accept my gift.” He reached into the box and lifted the broach out. He placed it in my palm and closed my fingers around it, keeping his hand over mine. There was sadness in his expressive eyes. “I want you to have it, if for no other reason than to remember me when you’re a duchess.”
I slowly nodded and forced myself not to cry.
I wouldn’t need a diamond broach to remember Alexander Paxton-Hill.
The tower of St. Thomas Episcopal Church loomed before us as we stepped out of the carriage. Bells tolled from high above as some of the finest-dressed people I’d ever seen entered the building. Passersby gawked at their expensive finery, but the social elite didn’t seem to notice the attention—at least, they pretended they didn’t. I wasn’t sure I would ever get used to strangers staring at me. I’d spent a lifetime trying to blend in.Now, as I stood before the church with the cold December wind slicing through me, I felt conspicuous. A fraud. And everyone would know it as soon as I opened my mouth.
Every bit of me trembled, and not from the cold. I had never been more terrified. Everything Aunt Maude and Alec had taught me fled from my mind. I was Keira O’Day, the poor tenement girl, dressed up in a costume, trying to pretend to be someone else.
Aunt Maude led the way with a regal countenance as Alec offered me his arm.
“Just remember to breathe,” he said.
I took a breath, but it felt like I couldn’t fill my lungs.
We walked into the church, and it was just as cool inside as out.
The cathedral was magnificent. My gaze traveled to the heights of the curved ceiling, and I tried not to let my amazement show. The grandeur put every other building I had ever seen to shame. Yet, if I was Maude’s niece, educated and refined as we were to pretend, then this church would be like all the others I had seen.
People spoke quietly amongst themselves as they found their pews. I knew the exact moment they noticed me on Alec’s arm. Curiosity shone in their faces and then the speculation began and the whispering intensified. It was like a wave as it followed us up the aisle.
Aunt Maude had told me that the wealthy set in New York encompassed only about a thousand people, so everyone knew everyone else—at least by sight, if not by association.
I was trembling so violently, Alec set his gloved hand over mine and gave it a gentle squeeze of reassurance. I could almost hear him tell me to breathe again. Using my free hand, I touched the diamond broach at my neck, finding strength in his gift.
As we took our seats near the front of the church, I was thankful for the solid pew beneath me. But it was only a matter of time before I would have to face those curious eyes and convince them that I was one of them.
The Episcopal service was similar to the Catholic ones I had known my whole life. It was the only familiarity I had felt in months, and it filled me with comfort. I thought of Alec’s prayer over breakfast and wondered what it might feel like to speak my own words to God. Would He listen to me? Did He care what I was doing? Would He help me?
As the choir sang “Angels We Have Heard on High,” I bowed my head and whispered a fervent and heartfelt prayer. The first of its kind. I had never thought I could speak to God, but here, on Christmas morning, with Alec on one side of me and Aunt Maude on the other, I was desperate. My heart fluttered to think He might listen. That He might care. That I might matter to Him. And not because I wore an expensive gown or sat in this magnificent church. But because I was His child, as Alec said.
When the minister, Mr. John Wesley Brown, gave the benediction, I tried to listen to each word. To understand my place in God’s creation. Could I know? Did He reveal that sort of thing to a person? I had so many questions for Alec, but I didn’t want him to see my ignorance. He saw enough of that already.
Soon, the Christmas service was over, and everyone began to leave their pews.
“This is the moment we’ve been waiting for,” Aunt Maude said to me. “Do not speak unless spoken to, and keep your answers brief. The less you say, the better. Stand up straight, keep your chin level, and do not look as if you are going to be sick.”
Alec offered me an encouraging smile. “You’re perfect.”
I followed Aunt Maude down the aisle as the congregants visited, wishing each other a Merry Christmas. People glanced her way, but she seemed intent upon three women in the middleof the throng. Two of the women had a stately bearing and were in their mid-thirties or forties. The third was a younger woman, perhaps the daughter of one of them.
As soon as they noticed the three of us, they turned to greet Aunt Maude and then rested their gazes on me.
“Who is this divine creature?” one of the older women asked Aunt Maude. “I do believe all the eligible bachelors in the church are already wondering when they might call, and all the mamas of single young ladies are drawing up their battle plans."
That seemed to please Aunt Maude as she smiled. “Mrs. Vanderbilt, Mrs. Whitney, and Miss Whitney, this is my niece, Miss Clara Day Hill. She’s recently come to live with me. Clara,” she continued, “this is Mrs. William Kissam Vanderbilt, Mrs. William Whitney, and her daughter, Miss Evelyn Whitney.”
On shaky legs, I offered them a curtsey, my stomach turning so violently I thought I might lose my breakfast. Could Aunt Maude tell?
“How do you do?” I managed slowly and as calmly as I could in the accent I had tried to perfect.
